Month: March 2018

I’d like to have just two and half minutes of your time – rather, your awareness – to say thanks. I’ll do so by sharing what this occasion means to me.

Four years. Physics tells us that time is an illusion. The present moment is as real as the line on a beach that separates sand from water. The present is an illusory and transient concept between past and future. So, if time is theoretical, then what gives these four years any practical meaning?

You do. People create meaning of time. I cannot speak to everyone who matters to me simultaneously. Still, I can state with certainty that those of you who hear me have made a difference in my time at Formlabs. You and our interactions are the substances that separates the past from the future. I’ve had profound learning experiences at Formlabs, and I’m not at all the same person I was when I joined the start-up of 50-something people. I’m also not the same person I was when I moved to Berlin. I’ve changed, grown, transformed, struggled, succeeded, evolved, listened, learned. It wasn’t on my own. It was with your help.

Right now, you’re either listening to me or you’re not. If you’re not listening to me, that’s great. You’re thinking about something important and meaningful to you. It’s hard to pay attention when you have your own ideas. We hire smart people, so I trust that your thoughts are significant and their impact is imminent. Thinking is the personal economic process when we decisively construct meaning from experience. Maintain your focus. If you are actively listening to me, I want to recognize your voice and your impact, too. Four years hasn’t given me any more voice than what you can offer. If I’m special, you are, too. Again, this time is meaningless without the people. Chances are high that your thoughts and your opinions represent a meaningful customer or colleague’s sentiment, and they deserve to be heard. You deserve to be heard. Therefore, once your thought is complete, don’t wait to ask a question, to give feedback, or to initiate.

I’m thankful for your wisdom, your effort, your energy. I want you to speak up. Be honest. Own your ideas and your voice. Contribute. I want each and every one of you to know that you matter. I value you. I believe in you. You have made the past four years, four months, four days, four hours… matter to me, and you will make the future matter for all of us.

So, thank you for giving meaning to these four years. Without you, time would be incomplete and incomprehensible.

It’s cold. How cold? Well, it’s below freezing, but that’s not exactly a number, and usually when people talk about temperature, we talk numbers. Math might be a universal language, but my blood still flows at 98.6 °F, and I’m trying to get it to 37 °C.

There’s a big difference between Celsius and Fahrenheit. While, they’re both made up, one makes significantly more sense, except when you grew up most of your life in a numerically illogical measurement system. (Dear America: Canada and Australia switched from imperial to metric measurement nearly 50 years ago, and we can, too!)

When Europeans rave about their mid-winter getaway, it’s something like, “we had 28 degrees every day!” And this, to an American, doesn’t sound all that appealing. 28 Fahrenheit is the below-freezing-skeleton that I’m trying to stuff back into the closet in anticipation of warm spring days. The daylight hours are noticeably brighter and longer, but Berlin is fighting one final (I hope) cold front.

I’m smart enough that I know the equation for converting temperatures: it’s roughly Celsius-times-2-plus-30-equals-Fahrenheit, and it’s precisely Celsius-times-9/5-plus-32-equals-Fahrenheit. I can do it in my head, but I don’t want to. I want to know the temperature when I step outside without feeling like my brain is doing foreign math, and to be able to answer without hesitating when a colleague asks me the temperature in Spain when I went swimming in February. Answer: the air hit 15 °C (58 °F) but the sunshine made it feel oh-so-much-warmer.

Every mobile weather application and website gives the option to switch between Celsius and Fahrenheit, so I can certainly check for myself – and feel incompetent. Initially, I ideated an app that showed two measurements side-by-side. With this, any time I checked the weather, I could know what it meant to me – which jacket, shoes, gloves, etc to wear – and also know the number that everyone else would chat about. I want to learn so that I simply know.

I found a better way. I’m learning to tell the temperature using references that mean something to me, and here are some examples:

Below freezing is below freezing. People usually stay indoors. I’ll add references if I go on any winter mountaineering adventures in the metric world.

0 °C is 32 °F. This is the freezing point of water, of course.

5 °C is 41 °F. It makes sense that 5 is half way between 0 and 10, and 41 is halfway between 32 and 50. Not all of the conversions are so sensible.

10 °C is roughly when you can switch to a lighter jacket. This is 50 °F.

16 °C is 60 °F. Sixteen. Sixty. Easy to remember. I realized the ease of this conversion when we were surprised with a warm Sunday afternoon this past weekend. Tempelhof (Berlin’s abandoned-airport-turned-public-park) was swarming with post-winter-pedestrians.

Some days we invest, and sometimes we cash out, reaping the benefits of our expenses. I invested in Thailand, in both financial and emotional meanings, and the rewards immediately flooded my lungs and my soul with freshness.

I arrived on Koh Tao via ferry on Monday morning, after a weekend traveling from Berlin and exploring the heart of Koh Samui (avoiding the heavily tourist-trafficked beaches). I strolled directly down the street to Ocean Sound Dive + Yoga after checking into my hotel. Yoga and dive were two of my three vacation objectives, and I immediately wanted to dedicate my energy to my intent.

In the course of five days, I spent about nine hours practicing yoga and more than thirteen hours in my SCUBA course, including almost four hours underwater. Both rituals emphasize specific breathing. SCUBA divers should breathe normally, but the sensation feels unnatural at first, with the body’s tendency to hold its breath underwater. Yoga practitioners emphasize an ujjayi breath, where we slightly constrict the throat while inhaling and exhaling. With proper, conscious attention, the ujjayi breath creates a deeper breath and a sound that coincidentally resembles ocean waves or the noise pattern of breathing through tanked air (or Darth Vader’s breath!). In both practices, it’s inhale, exhale, repeat. And in these special surroundings, the breath brings simultaneous relaxation and alertness. The investment of each inhale is rewarded immediately and sustained through the exhale.

I attempted an underwater airplane pose, just for self-entertainment.

In my observation of Thailand’s islands, stepping inside a shop, restaurant, or most businesses is more metaphor than reality. A dozen pair of Havaiana flip flops rest on the doorstep, gently removed as patrons enter, and otherwise there’s little distinction between indoors and outside. The ocean air is everywhere. Researchers have found that ocean air contains healthy negative ions associated with positive emotional feelings. These ions augment the body’s oxygen absorption and balance serotonin levels, and may be the explanation for the serenity and joy that some people find visiting the ocean, waterfalls, taking a shower, or rolling down a car window.Inhale, exhale, repeat. Invest, reap rewards, repeat.

In the right environment, breathing can stimulate an enlightened emotional state. For me this past week, I boosted my spirits underwater and on the mat at Ocean Sound Dive + Yoga.

a quote to remember

"The most dangerous worldview is the worldview of those who have not viewed the world.” / “Die gefährlichste Weltanschauung ist die Weltanschauung derer, die die Welt nie angeschaut haben.”

— Alexander von Humboldt

"In German, homesickness and wanderlust are twinned words - heinweh, aching for home, and fernweh, aching to be away. In a sense there are two kinds of trips: leaving home and coming home." - NYTimes: The accidental circumnavigator